


To Create, We Must Speak

by mitochondrials



Series: The Blacksmith Prince [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondrials/pseuds/mitochondrials
Summary: It was so easy for James, falling in love with the Prince who tinkered in the nude and built armors so unusual they might as well have been alive.It was so easy to die for him, too. But nothing is ever easy, in the end, is it?





	To Create, We Must Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> Written as part one of the several key exchanges happening in the 18+ WinterIron Discord Server. My prompt was: Medieval-ish AU with Prince Tony.

 

_**"Thus, under the rarest of circumstances, a human being may imbue lifeless matter with that intangible, but essential spark of life: the soul."** _

_**-[My Jewish Learning: Golem](http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/golem/)** _

 

The first time James met the Prince was when Becca, little darling Becca, decided to admire their newest member of their small village west of Avalon from afar simply wasn’t good enough.

She was very fast and very quiet, much like most mischief children tended to be in James’ experience. He barely realized she was hoping over the wooden fence that led to the Prince’s rather large cottage.

“Becca!” He yelled, chasing after her, and finding himself lost between the several entryways once inside.

It was dark, the main hallway lit by a single candle stationed under one of the various armor displays. Where perhaps one would feel a chill shoot down their spine from assuming the eyes of the helmet were watching them, James felt a strange sense of calm. Like the helmet’s gaze was protecting him from something unknown, making sure to keep him safe.

He snatched the single candle, hesitant on whether he should yell for Becca again or not. He knew nothing of this Prince except that the man hailed from the far south where the sun kept its warmth all through the seasons and their cities were separated by rivers, the country appearing as if it were floating above the water. That was what his mother had said.

For James, his whole life, and his whole world existed on this far off island, in this small village where travelers seldom visited. He was born in Avalon, but vaguely remembered anything worthwhile.

“Becca,” He said, calling softly as he wandered through the lower floors. He found more armor displays, along with bits and pieces scattered aimlessly around the main sitting room. Paints and dyes stained the kitchen, while something most peculiar smelling cooked away in the cauldron inside the hearth unattended.

He didn’t find them until he descended up onto the second floor, noticing the single sliver of light emitting down at the end of the hall.

Inside Becca was winding up a toy, giggling delightedly when shadows suddenly danced along the walls to its tune.

“Ah, and you’re James then?” The Prince asked, standing from his seat next to the writing desk. “I was just showing Rebecca here one of my favorite toys from back home. They are dancing along the central bridge, centered inside the capitol.” He was handsome, with dark hair and deep olive skin. His tired eyes were the most stunning shade of amber in the candlelight, and his smile was warm and inviting.

James felt his stomach flutter.

“I’m Anthony,” The Prince said, ignoring his awkward silence, “Er, well. Antonio. But Anthony has a certain something special about it.”

“Like Tony. Anthony for short,” Becca said. “He invited me in and said he didn’t mind my intruding. He let me look at one of his helmets, too. They’re really pretty, Buck. Just like statues.”

Tony was clearly trying not to laugh. “I appreciate a little character in my work. How else will I enrapture the children?” He winked at Becca.

James refused to admit he instantly had a crush, even after still not saying a word like a heart-struck idiot.

\---

“I’ve brought some of our excess milk, considering what your atrocity of a kitchen looked like the last time,” James said, carrying two glass bottles in his hands and walking straight into Tony’s yard where Tony was attempting to drag a piece of a rusted wagon into the doorway.

“I’m glad everyone remembers they can just barge in whenever they please.” Tony huffed.

James chose to ignore Tony’s lack of clothes in favor of helping him lift the damned thing onto the table in the dining room.

“Forget it. I was mostly hoping maybe you’d talk more than just about milk.”

“Shut up,” James flushed. “Becca and you took me by surprise last time. And I was tired. I don’t normally go rushing invited into the newest strangers home. Maybe it was the, I don’t know, stockings you had on that took me by surprise.” Ignoring Tony bending down stark naked wasn’t as easy to ignore as he hoped.

“Right. Clothes. That’s an appropriate form of etiquette when you have guests over.”

Unfortunately, the loose robe he draped over himself in his manic need to twist all the screws off another piece of rusted whatever that was didn’t make much difference.

He could have, you know, left and maybe done something more productive with his day. But Tony was so carefree, muttering nonsense James barely understood, James couldn’t pull away.

\---

It turned out there were many princes where Tony was from, all desperate to keep moving up in the chain of succession.

“We’re not all even related, mind you,” Tony said. He was holding Becca’s hand is his as they walked along the road towards the town’s tiny synagogue. He’d invited them to service, partly due to Becca’s curiosity when Tony wasn’t ever there for Sunday Mass.

James suspected Tony was now her favorite, regardless of the fact Tony was becoming his favorite too. Especially after all their barging in on Tony’s property unannounced, Tony barged right in at theirs, charming their mother instantly and helping make sure she was comfortable and had some fresh herbs to repay for this milk they’d so kindly given him.

Hesitantly, James reached for Tony’s free hand, trying not to continue being an idiot. He’d made a reputation for himself as the village flirt, damnit!

Tony had choked on his soup laughing when Becca declared his playboy status. But then he looked at James like he knew James’ secret, and that he approved of it greatly with an arch of his brow and the slight upturned grin of his lips.

“And technically, I’m not really a prince. My family is far down the chain of royal importance, once my mother married a blacksmith. He didn’t care much for it himself. His wares were famous, and I carried in his name till …” Tony continued saying. He easily took James’ hand in his, threading their fingers together. “Till I needed to find somewhere quiet, away from it all.”

James gave Tony’s hand a squeeze, darting his gaze away in a moment of bashfulness. “You couldn’t have picked a more quiet place, that’s for sure.”

“If you wanted to stop then why do you make armor then?” Becca asked, slightly ruining the moment.  
But Tony smiled, happy to answer her, “It makes me happy, in a way. They feel like family to me.”

“Oh,” Becca said, nodding in agreement. “So that’s why they’re all different colors? Not that, that your original isn’t still the best.” She insisted, implying they’d been having an argument over the subject for awhile now.

Tony snorted, but neither of them bothered explaining it to him.

\---

Oh. The Gold One, James realized was the larger suit of armor Tony kept in his writing room that was now scattered with blue prints.

What room in this place was ever not a mess of metal and papers, he thought.

Tony’s armors were full bodied and designed for the strongest of knights to wear. He lined them with a special kind of padding side, but James still felt like his shoulders were being pressed down to the floor when he tried wearing the chest plate alone. The Golden one was arguably clunkier than the rest, its shape slightly rounder than Tony’s other models too.

Becca liked adorning it with scarves and jewels and sometimes had Tony help her reposition it so it was holding a teacup or a bowl when she was eating porridge during the morning.

“My pride and joy,” Tony said with a happy sigh, carrying up a pot of freshly brewed coffee imported from the East. James had to make sure he didn’t spill it tripping over Becca who was lounging on the floor with the golden armor’s helmet nestled next to her.

“I still can’t think of the perfect name for him yet,” Becca said once they were all out of harm's way via got coffee, rolling on her stomach. “He should have an Eastern name, you know? But I don’t know any Eastern languages, which,” she promptly pointed at Tony, “You’ve been no help.”

James snickered. “You actually asked Tony to give you language lessons? That’s funny.”

Becca threw one of her pillows at him. “Oh, shut up. It’s not like you know anything.”

“That because I don’t,” James shrugged, cracking a grin.

“Unfortunately that makes three of us,” Tony said subtly leaning against James’ shoulder while sipping his disgusting bitter bean juice. “I had the privilege of mother forcing tutors down my throat. Never thought to pay attention to how they were tutoring me. How was I to know a particularly spoiled darling would need my assistance.” He teased.

“I think you’re just making excuses,” Becca said, disagreeing. “But, I also think I have to accept maybe he just doesn’t wanna have a name. The golden one is good enough.”

James would have passed it off as simple childish fantasy if the helmet didn’t seem like it was pleased with her assumption.

_Don’t be silly, Buck_. The helmet’s always looked like they were watching you, even after his first night stuck staring at the armor display in the candlelight. Of course, it was easy to mistake a face with hollow eyes and mouth for emitting emotions. He saw faces in the clouds and the rock formations scattered around the forest.

It was never less eerie, regardless.

\---

James woke with a start, feeling Tony writhing next to him. Tony was asleep, the both of them having passed out against the cushions in living quarters of Bucky’s home. His and Becca’s mother was attempting to teach him and Tony the finer points of cooking. To James’ own horror, course.

It must have been so obvious how he felt about Tony.

He ignored his thoughts and gently tried nudging Tony awake. “Darling, it’s okay. You’re alright,” He said gently, whispering the words in Tony’s ear as he delicately placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re alright. Come on, huh. Please wake up for me now, okay?”

It took a few moments, but then Tony jolted awake, his eyes snapping open as he became stark still. “James!?” He gasped. He was sweating, his skin clammy as James brushed another hand over Tony’s forehead.

“Yes. It’s alright, I promise. You’re okay now. I’m here, you’re safe.” James said.

Tony blinked his, trying to refocus and leaned all his weight on James’ side till he seemed more comfortable.

“Thank you, I--” Tony said. It was another few moments when he took James’ hand in his in reassurance like he always did. Like they always did, when they needed each other during these small, essential junctions between, well … everything else. “I’m glad you’re here. So, thank you.” He sighed.

James’ gave a tiny, timid smile, tucking Tony’s head under his chin and pulling Tony closer into his arms until they were both dozing back to sleep.

He wasn’t going to ask what nightmares were haunting Tony. He probably never would, not unless Tony was ready himself to face them. But James was always going to be there. It was a promise he’d die to keep.

\---

There was no warning. Instead, there was a blast in the distance that set off the pounding in James’ ears and then there was the smoke filling the village.

Ash and fire and screaming as destruction blazed in all around them.

James dashed from the market, coughing, his eyes burning from the smoke. “Becca!” He screamed, his heart thrumming in his chest.

He couldn’t see a thing in the chaos that unleashed all around him. All except for a flash of a warrior so large he must have truly been a demon, adorned in dark, rusted armor that towered over the flames, a blue circle radiating from its chest.

It reminded him of Tony’s own, but while its eyes too were alive, they were cold as ice.

“James!” And there Tony was, suddenly before him, gripping James’ arm tightly and dragging them both out of the fight. He wasn’t a common man anymore, or a Prince. He was a knight, encased in his own majestic masterpiece, the red and gold battle suit.

“You don’t have any weapons!” James shouted back, clinging to Tony in pure desperation. “You’re going to die, damnit!” He said because he realized. Tony was going to die. There was no question about it.

Tony never needed to tell James his nightmares. They had decided to follow him.

_And now, they were here._

James decided to not let Tony speak, instead nodding his head. “Okay,” He said, his voice starting to sound hoarse. “Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I understand.”

He could see Tony’s eyes through the hollow slits of the helmet, the helpless sorrow deep within them. Tony still didn’t speak, opting to finally pull away before squaring himself.

James knew what he needed to do.

“Are they safe? Becca and mom, are they safe?” He asked.

“Yes,” Tony said solemnly.

“Then you know I’m coming with you right!? I hope you thought to bring me something to shoot.”

Tony chuckled weakly, “If I’m going to die, then you will too. James, I …”

“Yes,” James said firmly. Then, more softly, “Antonio, of course, I know.”

The air was thick, the moment passing as quickly as it came, Tony making sure to keep a spare of James’ favorite bow that Tony had previously made him as a gift, and a shield James’ hadn’t seen before. It looked like pure silver, the center curving forward into a point sharp enough to hurt on impact, and indented with perfect rings similar to a cut tree stump.

“I made it just for you in mind,” Tony then said.  
James held it with care. It was lightweight, durable. He wasn’t the shield type, but Tony wasn’t the offensive type. Tony was a protector.

And in the end, when the dust cleared and the blood was drying the dirt, Tony had saved James’s life with that shield, protecting him from a trebuchet attack.

While Tony was busy fighting the armored demon James made quick of getting the rest of the villagers to safety, meeting with the approach of the army of Avalon itself. The fight had become a fully fledged war zone. But the shield had deflected the trebuchet assault away from the center of his body, mutilating his left arm instead.

He was still losing blood rapidly before he blacked out, but yes, still alive, Tony’s armor sparkling in his line sight.

_Still alive._

\---

There were voices, hazy and off-tone. James couldn’t make them out. Then there was the blackness. The loss of feeling.  
  
Then there was the screaming, all his own.  
  
“Shhh, it’s alright. I know you’re in shock, but it will come to pass.” Said a kind, slightly accented voice. James had to squint his eyes to get a better look, realizing it was an older man perched next to him, gently pressing him back down into the cot where he’d been placed.

“I can’t administer more salve in case of overdose. But the worse has come to pass, assuming you’re more aware now.” The older man continued. “But the pain should be passing now. I’ve had to amputate what was left, I’m afraid, or risk infection.”

The information passed over James like haze. As long as it didn’t hurt, he’d deal with it later. “Tony,” He rasped, coughing.

“Careful now. You’ll have to take it easy.”

“I need to know, the knight in the dual colored armor, is he?”

The older man contemplated his question briefly, his face turning pensive. “There was no one left in the aftermath. He either got away just in time … or was buried in the rubble.”

James held back a sob. Don’t think like that, he told himself. _You know Tony’s so much stronger, so much cleverer than that_.

“My, my shield?” James asked, deciding to worry about Tony’s gift instead.

“With your sister, Rebecca I believe?” The older man answered in understanding. “If you’ll pardon me, I’m Doctor Erskine. Abraham, Erskine.” He introduced himself.

James also disregarded the way Erskine didn’t mention his mother. There’s always hope, isn’t there? “James Barnes,” He said. “Nice to meet you, doc.”

“Perhaps as nice as it could have been due to the circumstances, but you rest, yes? A little later we can move to where your sister is being kept and perhaps you will find word about Stark. If not, then maybe you can insist me something a bit more ...er, mundane than all this? Something to keep my mind off things.” He explained. “I’m working on a clay sculpture piece that Rebecca seems absolutely fascinated by. A lover of art it seems.”

“Yeah,” James’ agreed. “That’s her alright. She loved watching Stark work and played tea party with the armors.”

Erskine smiled, “I’m almost done with him. The sculpture I mean. He’s a bit of an experiment on my part. Rebecca suggested pairing him with your shield when he’s done, at least for the final display. I thought it funny, at first. But children often see and understand things us adults seem to can’t.”

“Tell me about it.” James thought about how Becca treated Tony’s armors were alive and remembered how it felt like they were watching him from across the room. There was nothing else that he could now, except for wait. “Yeah, I’d think Tony would love seeing the shield displayed like that.”

He hesitated to say once Tony came back.

“Might I also say,” Erskine said before getting up to leave, “that I believe this will all turn out for the better, yes? We simply have to be patient for a little while."

James was willing to die for Tony, he bled for Tony. It felt a little selfish when he had Becca to look out for. Yet he bled for Becca, and for his mother too. He loved them, so, so much. And he loved Tony too, with every breath of his being. James would do anything, even wait for as long as it took, to be with him.

_I’ll always be here, Tony_. A promise was a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I had a hard time keeping this short. So, hence, there is definitely a sequel ~~(s)~~ in the works. Worry not if I have destroyed your heart! But unfortunately I'm so not sorry if this is the case  >3.


End file.
